


The Last Time

by Calebski



Series: The Misfits [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Pining, Start of something?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calebski/pseuds/Calebski
Summary: Prompt: Yaxley x Hermione: The Last Timefor Anon
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Reuben Yaxley, Hermione Granger/Yaxley
Series: The Misfits [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484525
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	The Last Time

Reuben Yaxley heard the clack of Hermione’s preferred work heels touch the ground - a sound he would have recognised anywhere - and he placed his forehead against the stone wall above her head. Enough hair had escaped her braid for him to feel the odd curl brush against his unshaven jaw and he gritted his teeth to bite back a sigh. 

Reuben often revelled in the height difference between them, but no more so than now, when he could use it to hide his expression. He worked his teeth back and forth until his face loosened, and then pushed all of his more raw feelings to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t have much time to savour the _afterglow_. Then again, he never did. 

Reuben listened attentively as Hermione’s breathing slowed and regained its usual steadiness. He wished he could turn back time. _But to when? To half an hour before, or to before any of this had even started?_ Only moments ago they had been frantically tearing at each other’s clothing and grabbing at whatever exposed skin they could. Hunting for heat and desperate to create it. Now though, it would all be different.

“Yax,” Hermione began softly and Reuben only just stopped himself from swearing in response to her pitying tone. The cruelty of her only using a shortened version of his name when she was ready to pull away from him was acute. The sweat that had begun to mist on his temples had barely cooled, and Hermione was already starting the by now familiar brush off speech. For a woman that had such a compassionate image, you would have thought she could have waited until he had at least gotten dressed. Nobody wanted to be sent packing while their flies were down. 

“You know that we can’t do this anymore, this has to be-”

“Stop, Hermione, _just stop,_ ” he harshly interjected before she could finish. He didn’t want to hear her repeat it. He wasn’t going to be a passive player in whatever melodrama she had rolled out in her mind, not anymore.

By some miracle, she listened to him, and Reuben pulled away from her, both to get some much needed physical distance and to better read her face. She was less cautious than him. Hermione pushed a damp clump of hair off her forehead and fiddled with a button on her pearly white blouse. She was quiet but determined, awkward and sure. It was the exact paradox oozing with passion and challenge that had attracted him in the first place, and he wanted to rush back over and close the gap, hurl her against the wall and hold her there until she would listen. But he didn’t, he kept his feet firmly planted on the floor. 

They had been doing this for months. It had started not long after Hermione had joined Hogwarts school as the History teacher. Reuben, having been there for years, had been assigned to be her ‘guide’, and it hadn’t started well. They had differing opinions on everything, and they debated them endlessly. Hermione didn’t believe in detentions, yet had no problem with standardised testing. She wanted the school to be kept open during holidays but baulked at the idea of cutting back on tuition costs lest it lowered the budgets for materials. Reuben thought she was wrong on just about every major issue, but he respected her too. Even when she would make personal comments to try and win her arguments, _especially then even,_ as the sudden shame she invertible felt made her cheeks flush and her breath pant. Her voice when giving an apology always sounded especially husky. 

As the old adage would have you believe, all that passion had to go somewhere.

And so began a pattern. They would start off in his classroom, usually with Hermione storming in to tell him off. An argument would start, and it would end with them pressed against the nearest surface. The aftermath was always the same as well. Hermione would right her clothes and tell him it could never happen again, and how no one would ever take her seriously if it got out, how it was the last time.

In the beginning, Reuben had been happy with her apparent desire to keep things casual, but not anymore, and the worst thing was she knew it. 

Reuben had never been one for secrets, especially in matters of attraction. It was a point of honour for him always to be upfront with women about how he felt. His issue now was that Hermione didn’t _want_ to hear him. When his feelings had changed, he had tried to tell her. She had obstructed, argued and all but run away from him. But he had seen it there anyway, the fear. He knew she cared for him too, it was there every time their eyes met when he was inside her, in every cup of tea she made that was just the way he liked it, the way she unconsciously picked to chaperone events that he was already obligated to, so she would have someone to talk to. She just wouldn’t admit it. 

It was time to break the pattern. 

Reuben pulled further away from her and shrugged himself back into his jacket. It was essential, his shirt was a mess, and he still had to complete his rounds before he could turn in and be left with his regrets. At least it was Thursday tomorrow; therefore, there was no chance of him going back to his rooms and convincing himself it was a good idea to get blind drunk.

He swallowed back the harsh words he wanted to use - the ones that had proved ineffective in combating her resolve. He made a point of meeting her eyes. He could almost hear her soft noises from moments before reverberating around the room. “Fine,” he agreed calmly, watching as her pupils widened and she bit the side of her lip. Fucking beautiful. “The last time.”

“What?” Hermione said, the single word falling from her mouth as her head tilted. Reuben felt a bitter thrill in begin able to shock her, for so long he had felt on the back foot. 

He reached forward to curl one of her loose strands of hair around his finger, committing its lustre and bounce to memory. “I agree with you, and you have my word. Just friends from now on.” 

He was amazed that the short, planned sentence didn’t’ choke him. 

She stared at him as if he had changed colour. Her mouth gaped, and she grasped for what to say, but no words were coming. 

“Have a good day, Hermione,” he managed to offer as he forced himself to leave his classroom and not look back. 


End file.
